


Breaking Things Into Pieces

by isopoda



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bad End Miranda, Character Undeath, F/M, Post Gift Update, Vampire Miranda AU, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isopoda/pseuds/isopoda
Summary: Death comes for us all. But sometimes, death can be undone. When one vampire manages to raise one of his dead friends as a fellow vampire, she's not entirely certain about what's going on, but with revenge on her mind, well, what more can you do?





	1. The Unbecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Woot, first fanfic! Like, ever. Normally I roleplay and write that way, so branching out into fanfic is entirely new territory for me! Wish me luck on this.
> 
> This is based off an old-standing AU I came up with in my head, incorporated into The Gift update. Miranda dies in the bad ending, Liam tries to revive her as a vampire, thinks he failed, shenanigans happen. The ship is coming in future updates, I promise. I'm a sucker for a good Mermaid Princess and Purple Hipster ship.

Begrudgingly, awareness. Aches and pains lurked beyond the darkness, hidden in the light, awaiting like the lures of anglerfish. Yet the light was what was quickly approaching, approaching quickly. There was a growing glow behind her eyelids, as the awareness came forward full throttle, slamming into Miranda sharply. She would’ve gasped at the sudden sensation that filled her body, except no exhalation came. Eyes sprang open, bright blue staring up into the darkness. 

Sight was thankfully blessed enough to come to her, even in this putrid darkness, the world smelling of formaldehyde and something putrid, beyond that. She was in a tight little container, plush walls of velvet around her, touching her dressed body. There was no light in here. She was on a pillow, and she would’ve questioned what was going on, but instead something else hit her body, something much direr, something that made her hands curl and dig her claws into the plush velvet around her. 

Hunger.

She was starving, sickly craving. The emptiness inside her was vast, expansive, and it turned against her, biting, angry, clawing at the walls of her empty stomach. Eyes glanced upwards, looking for a way out, for a way to satisfy this hunger. Nothing. Only the plush, soft velvet that had become her prison so easily. Her legs kicked in reflex, desperation, overwhelmed by the sudden surge of needing frustration. She was starving, starving! She had to feed, had to get out. To not do anything otherwise, no, she couldn’t bear to think of it! Her hands lifted, balled into fists, hitting the plush entrapment she was encased in. Success! She heard the creaking of wood beyond, slight indentations in the crushed velvet. Keep going, she begged herself to do, and she beat her hands again and again and again at her tomb. As her body moved, it ached, but the hunger was far greater, far superior in requirement. 

Further creaks and snaps rewarded her earfins, as her claws dug into the fabric, shredding it and revealing foam underneath. She could see the wood beyond, slowly being bent out of shape by the force of her blows. An overwhelming scream wretched itself from her throat, tearing its way free as dirt began to crumble into the cracks in the wood. No, no no no! She couldn’t be crushed, no! Her claws scooped dirt aside as it fell on her, and Miranda’s encasement began to distort from the weight on top of her! No! She pushed back, bending her knees up to exert further force, and it bent back into shape, then up and outwards again, opening as more dirt fell in on Miranda. She bent her body forward, starting to shoulder her way up, up and out. Her head was crammed into the dirt, and when she lifted her hands up to assist in shoveling her way upwards, up out of the dirt, the wood of the enclosure tried snapping shut on her torso. For now, the force that it took to snap Miranda in half was greater than the wood was exerting, but the shards and shrapnel were certainly digging in. 

Once more, her hands went to work. There was nowhere to push the dirt, so she had to start trying to reach up, through it, trying to push it upwards and worm her way through the cracks to the other side. The dirt was loose, recently disturbed, so it was easier than otherwise, but that didn’t make it a walk in the park by any means. Her legs pushed up, under her, backing her movements with how she planted her feet firmly against the bottom of the box she had been encased in. Wiggling was the best way to make it up and through, squirming through the cracks in the dirt, eventually leaving her able to pull her hips past the wood. Sharp wooden teeth closed around Miranda’s legs, but she managed to rip them free, leaving only a few chunks of herself behind in the process.

The desperation burned deep, settling deep into her gut, and when her hand felt air, she gasped- an unfortunate move, filling Miranda’s mouth with dirt. But now she had hope, she was close! She could satisfy the hunger soon! She scrabbled at the topsoil, spreading the hole wider and wider, pressing down as Miranda pulled herself out of the ground. Nothing was as beautiful as when Miranda could look up at the moon and stars above her, eyes opening wide in the starlight, almost too bright compared to the darkness of the box below ground. Her hands pulled and pushed further, bringing her torso out, and Miranda coughed up the dirt in her mouth onto the ground below her, quickly setting upon pulling the wooden shrapnel from her body. Most were small enough not to worry, and the larger ones hadn’t stuck in her, leaving Miranda quickly tugging the rest of her body free, pulling herself from the ground. Legs sprawled behind her, as she lay on the ground, panting, catching her breath. There was dirt and grime everywhere, and Miranda would’ve felt sick not only from that but from the still-remaining taste of the dirt in her mouth- but the hunger was far, far greater, and Miranda had to feed soon, very soon.

Finally, lifting her body up, Miranda could take in her surroundings. Trees surrounded her, along with what Miranda recognized as standard gravestones that the air-breathing folk used. Gradually, Miranda began to stand up, noting the graves all around her, and, namely, one in front of where she had been buried. Someone’s name was on it, Miranda didn’t recognize who, and she bewildered at this for a second, wondering why she was in someone else’s grave, when the hunger bit at her again and reminded her why she had escaped. Thankfully, the trees were sure to hide some wildlife, Miranda could recall that much, yet she pushed forward on shaky limbs. 

In fact, her first victim would end up being a fellow denizen of the night. The sound of a sudden squeak, before going silent, alerted Miranda to the presence of an owl, and she ran forward. Her distorted perspective made the world shift unnaturally as she ran, and thankfully when she tackled the owl, it hadn’t seen her coming. It beat its wings against her, hooting in distress, but Miri was already sinking her teeth into its plump body, feeling blood flow into her mouth, bringing an edge of satisfaction to her hunger. She began to suck, depriving the owl of its blood, and slowly, steadily, it stopped moving.

As the owl ceased movement, Miranda felt memories enter her mind again. She could think rationally, now that the hunger wasn’t so dire anymore, and she settled back against a tree, claws sinking into the paling flesh of the bird, while she replayed what had happened.

The Winter Serf Party.

Her earfins pricked up again, but now she felt fury within her. A deep, dark, growing rage that swelled within her chest and broke her apart, her claws digging deeper and deeper, crushing her prey long after it had expended its use to her. Her head lifted up again, blinking in the night, nictitating membranes sliding across her eyelids, clearing them of the final pieces of dirt. Her memories explained enough, for now. Miranda didn’t know how she had come back, or why she was so hungry, or why her fangs were suddenly so great at ripping into flesh- but she knew that she had been killed by a traitor, and she figured eel blood would taste far better than owl blood.


	2. Recompense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liam and Polly have chats, and we are filled in with information.

Liam had sincerely thought that it would work. He wasn’t sure why- perhaps it was his own selfish wish to see her return to life. He knew that Miranda was long since dead and should be left alone. Becoming a vampire was a double-edged sword, and it would’ve been better to leave her be. But he couldn’t help it. There was something deeply upsetting about losing his dear friend, something that he felt horrible about, despite having lost countless others before. His family, close friends, lovers- all had been taken by the passage of time and into the clutches of death. And yet, all the same, with Miranda’s death, it had been a new wound, rubbed raw, with saltwater poured into the wound. It was sickening, gut-wrenching. He hadn’t cried at the funeral, as much as he wished he could. The only time he had even cried over Miranda’s death, in fact, had been when he had tried to revive her. 

It wasn’t too hard for him to get her body alone. Simply find it where they were preparing the body for the funeral, sneak in when no one else was around, drip a bit of his own blood into her open, gaping mouth while sipping what little was left of her own- it was notably horrific, and the taste was abysmal with the preservatives they had used upon her body, and ultimately it was equally as useless. Useless, and worthless to even try. Why had he even bothered? The frustration had consumed him, and he held onto her limp corpse and sobbed openly about her passing. Or, as openly as he could when in a closed section of the morgue. She was so cold; Miranda had been cool to the touch in life, thanks to her naturally cold blood, but the coldness now was unnatural for her, and Liam could only liken it to his own body temperature. He buried his head in her cold, broken, sewn-up neck, and desperately tried to find sense in what he was feeling. Instead, all he could recall was the times he had inadvertently snapped at her, or ignored her, or made her upset in one way or another. Yes, all was forgiven after a point, but all he could think of was how he should’ve been able to stop this. He should’ve figured out what to do, how to prevent this entire mess, he should’ve been able to protect her- but no, he had done nothing, and now Miranda was dead.

Liam had fled when he thought he heard someone coming, disappearing into a cloud of mist, and vanishing to gather himself elsewhere. Miranda was to be buried in an unremarkable cemetery, under someone else’s name, as to avoid those who would defile her grave. It was a very private event, seeing her into the earth. She couldn’t even be buried underwater, as was customary of her family, due to how they had been pushed out of the kingdom in the aftermath of Miranda’s death. 

Even a week after Miranda had been put away, Liam still couldn’t bring himself to return to Spooky High. He had heard tell of some other students returning, but he was reaching new depths of his angst, found only in genuine mourning. It took another week for him to return, coming early enough in the morning to have some time alone before classes started. The laughter and conversation around him only turned him bitter and melancholy, wishing that he could return to his usual hipster mannerisms, yet found that he absolutely couldn’t. Class went on as usual, only with a new silence, a new lack of the usual joking mannerisms from the main six- five. The main five, Liam had to correct himself. Other students occupied themselves with discussing what they had done on prom night, but every time the sheer mention of the Monster Prom came up, Liam felt a sinking, bitter feeling grow within him, knowing that that was the night that Miranda had perished. And what was Liam doing? Attending Prom all by his lonesome, thinking that it was some bold move against the establishment of prom to attend by himself. What a fool he had been.

Even in the bright lights, in the midst of joy and mischief, Liam couldn’t bring himself to be his ordinary self.

The lack of illegal actions and deaths spoke as well to the others’ melancholy. It seemed that, with the main five too out of it to get up to any actual trouble, the school seemed strangely… Ordinary. Ordinary in the sense of completely expected, normal school acts. Nothing strange, nothing outlandish, and it hurt in desperate droves. The amount of fires that Damien had lit that day would be minimal, all small, all easily smothered. Even as Liam found himself barely dredging to class, he found the others there as well, sitting silently with only a few glances between him and the rest. Life was going on, but no one wanted to let it pass, not with the passage of Miranda. From what Liam heard, the shop wasn’t open either, and Valerie was taking it even harder than Vera herself- something about how something the shopkeeper had sold had contributed to Miranda’s passage. Liam doubted the use that Val blaming herself would have, but then again, nothing else they were doing had done anything else. 

Between the dredge of classes, of Liam barely and blandly dragging himself from one to the other, he found himself pulled aside by none other than his fellow undead. Polly, who seemed to have something to discuss with Liam.

“Hey, okay, so,” she began, speaking in a dreadfully careful tone for the party ghost, and with how more incorporeal she was as compared to usual, Liam had the sensation that it wasn’t good. “This is gonna sound nuts, but like, here’s the issue-“

“Polly, I am quite alright,” Liam lied, trying to make himself seem firm when all he wanted to do was collapse in the hallway, “There is nothing of which to worry about.”

“No, no, dude you’ve got it all wrong. I mean, if you need to talk about it, I’m all here for you, but I need to ask you somethin’ else.”

Now Liam was intrigued, one ear twitching, and his tone dropped into a soft whisper. “What do you need to know?”

Polly wrung her hands together, floating an extra inch off the floor, her ghostly ponytail swaying in wind that didn’t exist. “Don’t hate me for this, but- I looked for her. She’s not in the afterlife, not as a ghost I don’t think. Either she moved on already or she- Okay, all I’m saying, that was the kind of death that makes ghosts! She absolutely would’ve had unfinished business to attend to-“

Liam cut Polly off with a scowl, feeling a sick feeling bubble up within him. A bitter feeling. A disgusting feeling. “She’s gone, Polina. I don’t know if merfolk believe in a different afterlife than what you did, but-“

“But that’s the ISSUE!” Polly’s voice inadvertently raised, before she grabbed control of herself and lowered it once more. “It can’t be that different, for me not to find her AT ALL. Something has to have happened, and you’re smart and stuff, you have to know where she might have gone.”

Liam allowed Polly to finish what she was saying this time, but the scowl still deepened on his face, a dark grimace hiding in his golden eyes. When he spoke, it was calm, calculated, and with a barely-contained disgust that Polly would attempt to hold on when there was no chance for their friend to come back. His words were final. “Let it go. Miranda wouldn’t have wanted us to hold onto the impossible.”

The frustrated expression that came over Polly barely had anything to shout back to, as Liam turned away and walked away from the ghost, avoiding further questions. Polly would have to accept it, eventually. They all would. 

Somehow that didn’t make Liam feel any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to work on this in a timely manner, but I'm having too much fun with working on this. I'm starting on the third chapter tonight because I'm inspired, and maybe I'll have it out tomorrow if I keep going at this pace.


	3. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pause for reflection puts the game into the longer-term for Miranda.

Miranda looked up, into the night. Her eyes still hadn’t adjusted, and it was beginning to dawn on her that, perhaps, she should start to fear the coming dawn.

There was still absolutely no context for how she had escaped the previous encounter with the eel’s assassin. For all she knew, she had never died at all, and had simply been presumed dead by not only the kingdom’s physicians but the rebels that had so mercilessly torn into her. 

She shivered at the memories. Pain, blossoming, blooming, exploding across her body and into every vein, until blackness flooded her mind as the blood left her body. She could recall a slash across her stomach, one that had left intestines in its wake. The memory made her wince, as she could feel them fold down, across her lap, warm and wet and gruesome. 

Her hand touched her stomach in reflex, as if making sure she was still all there, but through the remains of her dress, now torn in her escape from her underground prison, she felt something far stranger, far odder and more unusual. 

Looking down, Miranda was greeted once more by the sight of her hands, something that she somehow had failed to observe before. 

Namely, in that they weren’t her hands.

Surprise welled, and she truly looked down at herself for the first time since she had left her coffin. Her hands now ended in large, sharp claws, no longer the petite fingernails of her past. No, these were bones, and massive ones at that, curving into sharp hooks at the end. The webbing between her fingers had grown ragged, likely from both the assassination and the act of digging herself free, but now they were a sickly, almost brown, ruddy color. The same went for her scales, which had paled to a ghostly white. For a moment, Miranda almost wondered if she herself was a ghost, but she knew Polly to have never eaten before, and Miranda had certainly just eaten. 

That being a mystery all to itself, Miranda almost forgot about what had bothered her so much about her stomach, before she turned her head further down and saw what she had missed before. She had obviously been sewn up, and the gash was still there, but that wasn’t what had bothered her. She pressed her hand down, touching against the torn dress, and there it was.

Miranda wasn’t breathing.

She hadn’t even noticed it before. Even on land, merfolk breathed, utilizing lungs, but now she was completely devoid of breath. Usually breathing was something one didn’t have to think of, the brain outsourcing that into its more automatic processes, without much of a consideration. Ordinarily, one didn’t even notice when they were breathing. And it seemed the same went for not breathing at all.

That made Miranda’s fins flare in alarm, even that not bringing a breath to her body. Everyone knew Miranda was no doctor, she was hardly even qualified to list what counted as life and what didn’t, but the fact was that even she understood that living things tended to breathe. 

She knew none of the finer measures of taking her pulse, but her hands lifted up, pressing her thumb to her wrist and waiting, waiting for the faintest glimmer of what surely had to be there. 

Nothing.

It seemed that Miranda didn’t have a pulse either.

That sent her mind into worried hysterics, trying to piece together what had happened. Okay, so she was dead. But not dead. She was undead. Undead, and all alone, next to a graveyard where she had been buried. Somehow, more and more sense was being made while, at the exact same time, less and less sense was being made. She should’ve been buried underwater, in the family graveyard, not… Not in a graveyard for ordinary monsters. Something was dreadfully wrong, and it seemed Miranda had very little choices in the matter on what to do so far.

Okay… First things first. Find out what’s going on, then revenge for her… Death, it seemed.

And, thankfully, Miranda knew exactly where to go to have someone both smart and already undead figure out her problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time. I've recently applied for a job, and my interview was today! I think I did very well, and I think I have a job in my future! Hopefully, that won't have too much influence over my inspiration to write this.


	4. Sired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, something other than pure misery happens.

The day passed in a liminal fashion. Scenes passed from one to the other without knowledge, without thought. Liam had dealt with death before, indeed, many of his closest friends had passed away unexpectedly, while Liam lived on. Yet the close bond he shared with Miranda, despite even her clueless nature… It put a new definition of hurt into the dictionary for Liam.

 

Gym was something he could only watch, sitting away on the bleachers, staring off into the clouds of dodgeball fury- his eyes open, but not seeing what was in front of him. Scenes played over in his head, countless times spoken to Miranda, a desperation to find some of his usual solace in death, but unable to process anything other than numbing, dull pain. Coach had stopped by to trade remarks with Liam, but the vampire spoke idly, saying nothing about what he was truly feeling. He was sure the catfolk would understand anyhow.

 

Halfway through his next class, AP Jumpscares, Liam simply… Got up and left. Maybe someone had called out after him, maybe they hadn’t, maybe the teacher understood well enough what was going through his mind to not call a desperate amount of attention to it- he wasn’t sure and didn’t care.

 

Even when he found himself in the library, Liam could only sit himself down amongst the deeper, darker tomes. They were dusty and thick enough to ensure that no one picked them up for years on end, and now Liam sat amongst their kind, wishing he too could be left alone for however long it took him to move on.

 

He had to move on. He had done it before, he could do it again.

 

He had to forget the agony that caused him to ache for Miranda’s presence once more.

 

With Liam’s new attitude of craving apathy, he found no issue with sneaking out once the sun was down low enough to provide a safe escape from Spooky High School. No effort was put towards even shapeshifting, instead just simply walking out once more. No care, nothing. Just endless, projected apathy, in order to mask the turmoil sitting underneath. Endless, broiling turmoil, writhing around within him like so many serpents, tying everything up into knots.

 

Autopilot took over as Liam walked home, having no effort to shapeshift and fly back to his own house. His mind was off, swirling his memories together into a sickly concoction of regret. His last thing he had said to Miranda was berating her for having eating serfs, feeling so concerned that she was not getting the needed amount of nutrients that a living being needed to survive. Maybe he should’ve paid closer attention to the serfs, to the new eel she had taken to carrying around in her bag. Maybe he should’ve tried harder to convince her to not rely on her serfs so much, instead of being easily persuaded to being able to photograph all the food he wanted without having to eat it.

 

But why should he blame himself for her death? Liam’s thoughts turned sour. Miranda was a tyrant, she should’ve known this was coming, that eventually her people would grow sick of playing her dangerous games with their lives. She could’ve listened to him, to not rely upon her serfs. Surely, she had to have seen this coming? Really, it was her own fault.

 

Yet that wasn’t right either. Miranda often had trouble understanding things that she had not been raised to comprehend, and her serfs not genuinely loving her was one of those things that she had never been taught. She thought that having her servants tell her how humble and sweet she was would make it true. It just couldn’t be entirely a fault of her own. Perhaps it was her family, if they had raised her better, if they had taught her these things, she wouldn’t have perished so tragically, and they wouldn’t have been-

 

Liam was so engrossed in his thoughts, he nearly slipped into his front door without even noticing that it had been left open. It was only when the ancient oak door creaked and nearly fell over that Liam could shake himself out of the stupor, blinking his yellow eyes a few time in shock, then narrowing them in instinct.

 

While Liam was never one to particularly use it, he was well versed in vampiric prowess, and he could certainly realize this work to be the result of another vampire breaking and entering. The claw marks upon the door told him that much, while a lingering scent of formaldehyde and decay betrayed it to be clearly the work of a new vampire. Likely someone who had been turned and was now seeking a territory of their own to hunt and needed to chase out the resident hipster vampire to do so.

 

Liam dreaded acts such as this. Violence was never his forte, and it had been at least a century since his last fight. He was out of practice and getting used as a punching bag by Damien was scarcely a good sign as to what he was capable of anymore. This would not be a fun fight, that much Liam knew for sure. Even while several vampires went to Spooky High, they all had different territories, and finding a new vampire infringing upon Liam’s own lair could easily mean him starving and fighting once more to find his own territory to hunt upon.

 

Eyes glowed a bright yellow in the darkness, challenging, and Liam bore forward, back straight and shoulders back, trying to look tougher than he felt. Claws held tensely at his sides, he readied himself to fight. He’d have to find the other vampire, and while they were a fledgling, unused to having their new body, and in the den of Liam himself, they had the time advantage upon Liam. He didn’t know how long they had been there, so they could’ve easily found somewhere to hide.

 

Thankfully, she had no intention of hiding for him.

 

Movement came from upstairs, on the second floor of the old manor. Scuttling, moving along on four legs, and Liam’s ears twitched. They were someone large, but not heavy, and sounded to have large claws by the scraping sound upon the floor as they moved.

 

If Liam listened harder, he would’ve been able to hear the slap of large webbed hands, or the slight tinge of rotten fish flavor to the scent.

 

Unfortunately, his mind was elsewhere.

 

The scuttling moved closer to the stairs, and Liam turned from the door to the stairwell, moving slowly up each step, puffing his chest out to look as imposing and impressive as possible. He needed luck and intimidation to win this, and he was hoping his own marks as an older vampire would retain some fear in the fledgling. The stairs creaked with each step he took, and he put in the extra effort to push his fangs over his lips, baring them and making them seem sharper and larger than before.

 

The scuttling stopped, up on the second floor, by the first of the two guest bedrooms. Waiting. A ghastly pale blue light radiated from the space above Liam, but he did not pause, even if he was worried this vampire might have stumbled across some fire magicks. A sharp creak of the stairs again, and the glow moved. They were waiting for him, it seemed.

 

Dreading a fight, and desperate to scare off any threats before physical blows could be dealt, Liam spoke up, his tone cold, harsh, sharp as a knife’s edge.

 

“How barbaric of you, to intrude when I was away. My my, did your sire teach you nothing?”

 

“Liam?”

 

He stopped. Paused, his long-deceased heart lodging in his throat. No, an illusion. If they had fire abilities, they could certainly mimic a dead princess’s voice.

 

“Do not speak with that voice.” Liam’s tone was even more deadly now, an edge of rage working into it. A hiss was released as Liam bared his fangs, claws digging into the wooden railing on the staircase.

 

Steps came from above. Liam hadn’t reached the point in his staircase where it coiled around, forming an L-shape, and allowing him to see the intruder. The glow moved with them, too much to be a simple glow of eyes. He looked upwards as a face appeared over the balcony of the second floor, looking down at him with wide, pale blue eyes, and the world stopped working.

 

Miranda stared down at him, changed yes, but with features that were unmistakable as her own. She wasn’t giving off threat signals, not a sign of challenge written upon her body. There was dirt and grime and dried blood around her mouth, and huge claws at the end of webbed hands clutched at the railing above, too gawky and unfamiliar to handle the wood delicately enough as to not scratch it.

 

There was no thought that ran through Liam’s mind, no understanding, no comprehension. This was Miranda. This was Miranda, but with features that had changed and were far more _abyssal_ than what he had seen on merfolk before. Two puncture wounds on her neck confirmed that… If this was a fake, it would have to be from someone who knew of what Liam had tried to do. Not impossible to figure out, with Liam leaving marks so obvious, and with him so connected to Miranda before her death, but they would’ve had to have seen her body, and…

 

The cogs of Liam’s mind were further jammed as Miranda smiled down at him, showing long, ragged rows of teeth, more like shards of glass shoved into her gums than the ordinary teeth she used to have. This felt wrong, impossible, and suddenly Liam felt light, his mind fogging up in confusion and shock. He stumbled, nearly falling down the steps, and now splinters were cutting into his hands from where he gripped onto the railing.

 

“Forgive me for the sudden intrusion, I’m afraid I need your assistance.” Her voice suddenly was sweeter than any music Liam had ever heard. The best sounds in life, the most gourmet food pictures, every image ever so much as glanced at by a creature’s eye could no longer compare to the simple beauty of hearing Miranda speak again, even as she flared those fins in alarm and moved forward, walking away from Liam, so that she could arrive at where the stairs connected to the second floor, then turned and walked along the adjacent wall that the stairs hugged, so that she could turn once more and come face-to-face with her fellow vampire.

 

Despite the dirt, despite the grime and blood and little pieces of coffin and all of the changes that she had gone through into her ascension as one of the undead- there was an unearthly, perfect beauty that angels themselves could not compare to when it came to the sheer sight of Miranda’s face again.

 

This time, there was no concealing Liam’s wails of sheer ecstatic joy as he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the mermaid princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pause for this chapter! I think it's certainly indicative of my status as a beginner fanfic author. I know I'll need to work on pacing in the future, and I'll probably read over a few other fics and some actual fiction books to see how other authors handle this after this gets posted. Needless to say, it's not the best writing out there when it comes to what could've been this scene, but hey, I am just starting out, and this is good practice for later! I'm eager to eventually be able to compare this to more writings in the future, and see how I've grown!


	5. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the truth comes out: does Miranda is vampire?

Thankfully, Miranda’s presence was enough to soothe Liam enough to stop him from berating Miranda for nearly ripping his door of its hinges.

 

It was all she could’ve done to hold onto him in return, patting his back, instinctively cooing at him to try and soothe him as he bawled into her arms. He had pressed her head under his chin, tucking her as close around him as he possibly could. Miranda wasn’t too upset about this and was more so just confused as to why he was acting this way. She couldn’t have been gone that long, could she? Certainly, she had… Died, she thought, perhaps? She couldn’t have done that _too_ long ago, since she certainly didn’t _feel_ dead. In fact, until she had noticed the issue with her not breathing, she thought she was verifiably alive.

 

In fact, her current state was oddly like Liam’s own, which she noted, as she hugged him and pressed her head into his neck. There was no pulse, no heat, no breathing. She knew Liam to be dead, he would bring it up often, after all. He was a vampire, in his 400’s, everyone knew that. All that considered, Miranda was quite certain that Liam would know what was wrong with her, as opposed to someone like Scott or Damien, who might be equally as clueless.

 

Yet, as Miranda closed her eyes and let Liam hold her, she felt a new, different kind of fondness for Liam. It wasn’t familial, nor platonic, nor even sexual. There was a kind of instinctual urge she found in her hindbrain, an intrusive thought that kept popping into her head. This was Liam, he was good, he was safe, she could stay around him. In fact, she found a strange urge to remain near him, chasing his touch when his tears finally dried enough for him to speak once more.

 

“M-Miri, I, I did not expect,” he seemed to be at a loss for words as he trailed off, the stupid grin plastered on his face certain to not go away anytime soon. “I thought for sure it had not worked, but- but here you are!”

 

That made Miranda’s fins twitch, her large blue eyes blinking at Liam confusedly, slit pupils growing wider in both the darkness and in interest in what he was saying. “What hadn’t worked?”

 

Now it was Liam’s turn to pause, the smile faltering just the slightest bit, but remaining on his face. The instant it threatened to disappear, Miranda felt a jabbing pain in her innards, a desperate need to have him smiling so gleefully again.

 

“Well, uh, your current state, haven’t you-?”

 

That was when Liam’s smile turned into anxious lip-biting, and Miranda felt a bitter, sinking feeling, getting the strong sensation that she wouldn’t like what Liam had done.

 

“Okay,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around Miranda’s back, a gesture which she leaned into enthusiastically, and began leading her down the stairs, “Let’s get you a drink and we shall discuss what’s happened, alright?”

 

Miranda nodded her agreement, and the two were off, down the stairs. Miranda had noticed it before, when she broke in, how strangely… lengthened her legs and arms had become, as if they had been stretched upon the rack, and thus she had discovered she had an easier time walking on all fours. Yet now it was undeniable. Miranda was taller, and with Liam to compare herself next to, she could certainly tell so. This was bizarre, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it, especially when she used to have an easier time fitting under Liam’s chin.

 

Settling in the parlor came next, with Liam doing his best to quickly affix the door back into place before rushing off to get the two a drink. Strangely, Miranda found herself craving more sustenance again, feeling the same twinge of hunger at her insides as before. She actually looked forward to what Liam brought out, and when he did stride into the parlor with two wine glasses of blood, she took one and dove into it immediately, with no care to how she normally had serfs to attend to such needs from her.

 

Liam himself even looked shocked for a moment, before settling back into a calmer repose, sipping delicately at his own glass.

 

There was nothing left in the glass when Miranda finished, licking her lips with a pointed tongue, trying to get the last bits of sweet O-negative (how could she tell that?) into her mouth.

 

“I take it you are quite hungry, yes?” Liam seemed at least amused by her antics, something which had Miranda flicking her fins and settling back easier.

 

“Indeed. In fact, I came to you for such an issue,” she relaxed into her seat, hoping she wasn’t dirtying up Liam’s furniture irreparably.

 

“You did?”  
  
“Why yes, it was most odd.” Miranda then proceeded to tell the story of her finding herself buried underground, under a tombstone with a name that was not her own, and in a graveyard that was above water. She noted how she had killed the owl, devoured its blood, then how she had noticed she wasn’t breathing, and thought that Liam could help her.

 

He seemed firmly startled by the end of it all, and when she finished, he breathed out that one fatal question, the query he was dreading to hear the answer to, “You… are not aware of your current state?”

 

That had Miranda on edge, anxiously picking dirt out from under her own claws, wondering what it was that Liam could possibly have to hide from her. “No, I am afraid I do not. What has happened?”

 

Liam made a grimace, and his eyes traced over to Miranda’s empty wine glass, Miranda’s own eyes following his gaze.

 

It was then that she knew what he was about to say.

 

“Miri, I am… I had to… Change you, to bring you back. Please, forgive me.”

 

She fell still at that. Miranda had never heard of a mermaid vampire, which she certainly was now, Liam had just confirmed that much. As far as she knew, this couldn’t happen. And yet, here she was, dead, but not dead at the same time. Alive, but not breathing, with no heartbeat to thud in her chest.

 

Strangely, she didn’t have the reaction Liam was sure she would’ve had otherwise, as his hands twitched over his suspenders, straightening them impulsively to relax himself.

 

“I understand this to be very jarring. I… I am sorry I could not save you without converting you, please-“

 

Liam was silenced by Miranda raising a finger, a gentle smile overtaking her face.

 

“Liam, thank you. I am forever in your debt.”

 

Now it was Liam’s turn to be shocked, and he blinked a few times, as if unsure of himself, before tentatively speaking once more. “You- You understand you will not be the same as before, correct? I was impulsive, I could not bear you passing, and I did not think out the repercussions of your arising.”

 

“I understand, but with someone such as yourself to guide me, I am certain that I will have no trouble.”

 

Liam looked away, hoping to hide a blush that he was sure Miranda could see anyways. She indeed could, and she fluttered her fins happily at him, hoping that he would find it just as charming as always.

 

“Well, in that case…” Liam seemed a little flustered by his next suggestion, once again wringing his hands up and down his suspenders, “Perhaps you’d like to join me in my coffin, for today? I am afraid I do not have anything else prepared for a fellow vampire.”

 

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Miranda’s smile was wide, with an excited flutter of her fins, that same sensation as before egging her on.

 

As cliché as it was, even Liam had to agree that it would be nice to not be alone for once, while he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the pause! To be honest, I just fell into an odd pit with this chapter, so if it feels like it's written weirdly, that's because it is. Note to self: Don't be afraid to re-read over chapters and polish them up.


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